Home Base
by arianapeterson19
Summary: "That is it!" yelled Tony, slamming the refrigerator door shut with an unsatisfyingly soft slam. "I'm writing a How-To-Adult-Properly book. I'm sick of this nonsense!" He stormed out. "Do you think he knows he's wearing Captain America boxers and his toenails are painted pink?" asked Clint, sipping the last coffee in the Tower. Sequel to "Winging It"
1. Bad Day and Sick Day

In a tower full of super heros trained in various forms of defense, stealth, and schooling, all with years of experience and each formidable in their own field, it was difficult to say which resident was the worst when they got sick. Steve and Bucky were both bad when injured; they hated feeling useless. Clint turned into a cat, curling up in the most inconvenient of places like doorways and the island of the communal kitchen, transforming from demanding attention to lashing out at anyone who ventured near. Bruce, thankfully, had only gotten sick once from some Asgardian cold, and that had been a mess that should have ranked him the worst sick patient but really it was Hulk's fault, so no one blamed Bruce for that destroyed land in Iowa. Tony swore Natasha couldn't get sick because even her white blood cells were made of bad-assness and would obliterate any germs that dared seek refuge in her body. Tony, when he got sick, got really sick, so he tended to be more pathetic than difficult. However, it wasn't until they had actual children running amuck in their home that they realized how difficult being sick could actually be.

"Come on, Pete," coaxed Steve, sitting in the bed with his son resting against his chest, his sweaty brown locks plastered to his flushed cheeks. "Uncle Bruce ran out and got this tea just for you. It'll make you feel so much better."

"No," whined Peter pathetically, rubbing his face against Steve's shirt. "It's gross."

"Here, how about I drink some and then you drink some?" suggested Steve. "Then it'll be gone and you'll see how not bad it is. Think we can try that?"

Peter thought about it for a minute before nodding miserably.

"You go first," coughed Peter.

Steve took a sip of the lukewarm mug of tea. Peter hadn't been wrong, it was disgusting, reminding Steve of spoiled milk and raw eggs blended in a blender Dummy had recently used, but he forced the fluid down with a pained grin and handed the mug to his son.

"Pretend it's a milk shake," said Steve.

Peter wrinkled his nose but took a dutiful sip; he would do anything Steve asked in the end.

"Good job," praised Steve when over half of the mug was finished, kissing the boys sweaty locks. "Think you can go to sleep?"

Peter nodded, already mostly asleep after consuming the tea. Steve lowered him back onto his pillows and turned down the lights, creeping out of the room only when he was sure his sick charge was asleep.

"How's he doing?" asked Tony when Steve arrived in his workshop.

"Fever's lower and he's sleeping now," reported Steve, sinking into the ratty old couch that he swore had magical powers of comfort and the ability to seat every single Avenger at the same time while still looking like it could only fit Tony laying down. "How's Emmy?"

Tony nodded over to where Emmy was sitting under one of his work benches messing with what had once been a computer. Dummy sat in front of the table like a guard dog. Emmy was having a bad day; she's had nightmares all night and everything made her jump, like she was on the verge of a panic attack at all times. When Peter wandered into Steve and Tony's room at two in the morning sick, Steve handed Emmy – who was curled up on his chest – to Tony and took Peter back to his room to take care of him. After the third nightmare caused Emmy to wake screaming, Tony took her down to the workshop. She had promptly crawled under the table with her blanket and stuffed dog and began taking apart everything Dummy brought her. When she would start crying, Dummy would alert Tony and he would sit on the ground next to the table, allowing Emmy to make the choice to stay or come to him if she wanted to be comforted.

"She's doing okay, considering," said Tony. "She's been missing you, though. She was asleep when you took Peter back to his room and I think with everything going on in her head she thinks you left her for good."

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his short hair.

"Alright, I'll swap you," said Steve. "You go check on Peter and I'll bring Emmy upstairs for some food."

"Aye, aye, Captain," said Tony with a mock salute before walking over to Emmy's hiding place.

"Daddy?" whispered Emmy, her eyes going tearful as Tony approached as if she knew he was leaving her too.

"Hey Ducky," said Tony brightly, opening his arms for Emmy, who promptly fell into them, clinging to him like an octopus. "I'm going to go check on your big brother now. He's sick, remember? So Papa is going to take you upstairs to eat. Maybe Uncle Bucky will be there and you can play with his hair. You like that."

"No," whispered Emmy, clinging tighter to Tony's worn black shirt. "Don't go."

It had taken her almost four months of living with Steve and Tony before Emmy said more than their names consistently and she still barely spoke above a whisper when she opted to speak at all. Still, those three words of protest both warmed and shattered Tony's heart at the same time because while he was thrilled that she was comfortable enough to finally speak, it hurt him that she still expected him to leave her.

"Petey needs me right now, Ducky," reasoned Tony, walking over to Steve so his husband could pry the toddler off. "Go with Papa."

Emmy just shook her head and gripped Tony's shirt tighter when she felt Steve's hands attempt to take her away. On the verge of a total melt down, Dummy beeped up at Steve and held out Emmy's blanket and dog. Steve took them with a grateful pat and wrapped the blanket around the girl.

"Here we go," said Steve softly, pulling a reluctant Emmy from an equally reluctant Tony. "Look what Dummy brought you."

"No!" shouted Emmy, throwing the dog on the ground when Steve handed it to her.

Everyone froze for a moment, each looking equally surprised at the action. Emmy's bad days normally consisted of her crying, being clingy and cuddly, but she had never thrown a tantrum, never thrown anything, especially not her prized dog. Before the adults could react, Emmy squirmed out of Steve's grasp and jumped to the floor before curling in on herself, trembling and whimpering apologies.

"Oh, honey no," said Tony, instantly recognizing the behavior for what it was – Emmy expecting to get hit for lashing out. It was a problem they had run into before with her; when she did something new that she thought was against the rules, she panicked and expected to be physically punished.

Tony sat on the ground and pulled Emmy back into his arms while Dummy whirled anxiously in the background.

"No, Ducky, it's okay," said Tony soothingly, rubbing Emmy's back, which did nothing to stop the tremors. "You're tired, you're having a bad day, I know you didn't mean to throw your dog. You're not in trouble, honey. We're not mad."

"Tony," said Steve. "I need to check on Peter."

"No, I'll do it," said Tony. "Just give me a second."

Steve nodded.

"Emmy, Papa, you, and me are all going to ride the elevator together," said Tony, already standing up with the girl in his arms. "Then you are going to go with Papa while I check on your brother. I won't be far and I won't be gone long but I need you to be good and let me check on Peter. Understand?"

Emmy nodded and when the elevator reached the communal living room, she allowed Steve to lift her out of Tony's arms. Bucky was in the living room waiting.

"JARVIS called," said Bucky in explanation. "Said you had your hands full with a sick Peter and upset Emmy. I'm here to offer my services as favorite uncle and give you a break."

"Pretty sure Clint thinks he's the favorite uncle," said Steve, dropping exhaustedly on the couch next to his long time best friend.

"Yes but Clint also thinks Arrow is better than Supernatural, so his judgment is not to be trusted," replied Bucky before leaning forward slightly to look at the morose bundle in Steve's arms. "How you doing, brat?"

Emmy sighed but crawled onto Bucky's lap, poking at his metal arm dispassionately.

"Not talking to me?" teased Bucky lightly.

Emmy's eyes filled with tears at the comment.

"So it's that bad of a day," said Bucky softly, flesh hand bringing Emmy closer.

"I want Daddy," whispered Emmy, tears starting to fall again as she buried her face to Bucky's shirt.

"Go get some rest, Steve," said Bucky. "Or look in on Peter if that would make you feel better, but I've got her until Tony gets back."

Steve nodded, kissed Emmy's messy hair, and left. It broke his heart to see his daughter do upset when he could do nothing but he also knew that Peter – while the boy adored Tony – was more of a Papa's boy, just like Emmy was a Daddy's girl, and when sick Peter generally just wanted Steve's attention.

"So what's this really about, kid?" asked Bucky when Steve left, setting Emmy in front of him on the couch, both sitting tailor style to see face the other.

Emmy looked down, tugging absently at the blanket that pooled across her lap.

"I'm not going to make you talk about it," said Bucky softly. "But I can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong."

"I just want Daddy," whispered Emmy, curling up in her blanket, tears tracking down her cheeks. "Please."

"He is taking care of your brother," said Bucky, metal hand rubbing her hair.

"Daddy and Papa love Petey more."

There it was. Bucky knew Emmy adored Peter. Everyone had expected her to become upset and jealous when she had to share her father's time but she hadn't, then again she also hadn't had such a bad day since Peter had joined the family. Every other bad day she had Tony and Steve available to her but with Peter sick, they had to split their attention and clearly she was not handling that well.

"Damn," cursed Bucky.

 ***Sequel! Because you asked for it and I would have missed writing if I stopped.**

 **I was going to post this later but it's my birthday and I wanted to give you all a present. So here you go! Always-Ari**


	2. Ohana Means Family

"Hey Bucky," said Clint, popping out of the vent near his favorite armchair. "JARVIS said I should appear here at my nearest convenience then he blocked all the doors that didn't lead to you, so this had better be good."

Bucky stood up and offered Clint the blanket covered Emmy.

"Bad day?" asked Clint, easily taking the bundle and settling her against his shoulder.

"Yeah," sighed Bucky. "Emmy thinks Steve and Tony love Peter more. It's her first really bad day since he came and Peter's sick, so they can't spend all their time with her. I need you to keep her while I go talk to Steve and Tony about this."

"Got ya," said Clint.

"Uncle Clint?" said Emmy softly.

"Yes baby?" said Clint, walking around the room, keeping up a soothing rocking motion while Bucky slipped silently out of the room.

"Daddy?"

"Peter's sick, sweetie," said Clint. "Your Daddy and Papa need to take care of him now. You love Peter, right?"

Emmy nodded, burrowing her face into the spot where Clint's neck met his shoulder.

"And you know how some days are bad for you, like today?" continued Clint. "And you're sad and scared and can't do anything to make it stop?"

Again, Emmy nodded.

"And when you have days like today, your Daddy and Papa do everything they can to take care of you, right? Well that's what they need to do for Peter right now. Peter is sick and your Daddy and Papa have to take care of him. That doesn't mean they love you less. You know how I know?"

Emmy shook her head no, sniffling but listening to Clint talk.

"Because you made them a family. Before you came along it was just us and them and that was great, but it wasn't wonderful. Did you know that they talked about adopting for years before they started to look? And then when they started to look, your Papa would drag your Daddy to all of these interviews and gatherings and while your Daddy wasn't opposed to getting a kid he wasn't enthusiastic because he didn't trust himself to raise one properly. But then they went to this adoption party and this little girl with messy red hair and bright purple eyes sat down next to the Tony and helped him fix a broken robot. Know who that little girl was?"

Emmy pointed to herself.

"That's right!" praised Clint, kissing the top of her head. "And you changed everything. I've known your Daddy and Papa for a long time so trust me when I say that you made those two a family by coming into their lives. They love you more than anything, just like they love Peter more than anything and would do anything for both of you."

"Papa wanted a boy," whispered Emmy.

"What?" said Clint, taken aback by the statement. No one had ever talked about how Steve and Tony had been looking to adopt a boy Peter's age when Emmy came along, not in front of her at least.

"Papa wanted a boy," repeated Emmy just as softly. "He said so before they brought me home. Daddy told him he wanted me and Papa said, 'I thought we talked about adopting a boy'. They never wanted me. And now they have Peter and they're going to take me back."

Clint wanted to cause Steve bodily harm.

"I'll take her now, Clint," said Tony, leaning against the doorframe, causing the super spy to jump in surprise.

"Daddy!" cried Emmy, instantly reaching out for Tony.

"Hey Ducky," said Tony, taking the four year old from the archer. "I heard what you told Uncle Clint."

Emmy ducked her head shyly, left hand curling into the neck of Tony's black shirt, right thumb slipping into her mouth.

Tony carried Emmy back to Steve and his room and climbed onto the enormous bed. It was a bed built to hold all of the Avengers comfortably in case they ever needed company during the endless nights. Tony settled back against the headboard supported by the endless amount of pillows that Steve insisted they have because he had seen them in some fancy magazine. Tony hated all the pillows, they always ended up on the ground, but Steve seemed to think that because he had seen them in all those Better Homes and Gardens pictures they belonged in all bedrooms in this future and Tony was not going to take that from him. Steve didn't ask Tony for much so pillows were a small price to pay.

"I was an only child," said Tony after several minutes when it became apparent that Emmy was not about to let go of him. "When Papa brought up wanting to adopt I made it very clear that if we did I wanted to adopt at least two kids. Being an only child got boring for me. And it's true, Papa had his heart set on adopting a little boy about Peter's age. That's what he wanted so I went with him, I wanted a kid too. But I didn't think I was ready to be a father or that I would be a good father."

Emmy's trembling was finally settling down, either reassured by the sound of Tony's voice, his words, or finally succumbing to exhaustion he wasn't sure but he wasn't about to risk setting her off again by stopping.

"And then you, you brilliant, adorable, wonderful little girl wormed your way into my world without trying. And let me tell you, you are nothing I would have pictured in a kid I wanted to adopt. You, Emmy, are so much more than even I could have pictured."

For a long time after Tony finished talking they just sat on the bed, JARVIS playing music softly in the background. Eventually Emmy fell asleep, ear settled over his heart, helping her regulate her own heartbeat that wanted to jump out of control. Tony hummed along to 'Highway to Hell' but didn't move; some days were worse than others. That was how Steve found them shortly before dinner.

"Peter's fever broke," announced Steve happily, waking Emmy up with his voice.

"Steve," groaned Tony when Emmy began to cry.

"Oh I'm so sorry, baby," said Steve, sitting down on the bed next to Tony. "I didn't know you were sleeping."

Emmy took one look at Steve and turned back into Tony's chest, causing Tony to sigh.

"Still a bad day?" said Steve sadly.

"I talked to Bucky," said Tony quietly, one hand resting over Emmy's exposed ear to help block out the conversation. "Emmy thinks we love Peter more."

"Why on earth would she think that?"

"Because it's a bad day and she's always more vulnerable on bad days. Because she has to share us on a bad day and that's never happened before. Because you said you wanted a boy the day we met and she remembers. And now we have Peter and she thinks we're going to give her back."

"Papa?" said Peter, anxiously shifting from foot to foot. "Is Emmy feeling any better?"

"Peter, honey you should be in bed, resting," said Steve. "I know you're feeling better but you need rest to get back to your normal self."

"I feel much better," said Peter with a yawn, climbing onto the bed with Steve, Tony, and Emmy. "Why is Emmy sad?"

"Pete, remember how we told you that Emmy didn't get have a nice family like you did before coming to live with us?" said Steve, wrapping one arm around Peter's slim shoulders.

"Yes."

"Well, because of that sometimes she has bad days," explained Steve. "On bad days she gets sad and scared and the best we can do is wait it out with her."

"Did…did the people Emmy lived with before…did they hurt her, Papa?"

"Yes, Peter," said Tony when it looked like Steve was going to lie. "But she lives with us now."

"It's okay, Emmy," said Peter, scrawling over Steve's chest so he could bed sandwiched between Steve and Tony. "I won't let them get you. I'll protect you."

 ***What's this? Another chapter already? Wow!**

 **On another note, I know exactly what's going to happen and just...you know...be ready. Always - Ari**


	3. Peter Knows the Rules

Emmy hadn't slept well but it was a school day and she didn't want to upset anyone by telling them she was too tired and anxious to go to school. She loved school. Mr. Lee gave her math problems to do while the other kids learned to count, he let her be quiet and still allowed her to play with the other kids even though she didn't do the same worksheets as them. If she told Daddy or Papa that she didn't want to go to school then they would know she was having another bad day and that would be the second one in a week. Peter didn't have bad days, which was probably why they were going to keep him and return her. Emmy couldn't even blame them; she wished she could be like everyone else.

"Ready to go?" said Steve, sticking his head into Emmy's room to check on her.

Emmy nodded, slipped on her favorite purple sweatshirt that had 'Hawkeye' written across the back in black, and followed her Papa out into the hall where Tony was checking with Peter to be sure he had all of his school work.

"Papa, can Emmy and I walk to school alone today?" asked Peter, appealing to Steve with his begging eyes.

"Oh I see how it is," said Tony with a smirk. "Asking Papa because I already said no."

"If Dad already said no then the answer is no, Peter," said Steve sternly.

"But I used to walk to school alone all the time!" whined Peter. "None of the other fourth graders have their parents walk them to school."

"Well you aren't one of the other fourth graders, are you? Emmy is four, she can't walk to school without an adult."

"I could take her! Please! Just this once. I promise to be good. I'll even walk her all the way to her classroom just like you guys do. Please!"

Steve and Tony exchanged looks.

"Fine," sighed Steve. "But just this once. And you have to hold her hand, Peter. She's little and could get lost in the crowd."

"Yes! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

Peter hugged Steve and Tony once more before grabbing Emmy's hand and dragging her towards the elevator. When the doors closed, Tony looked up at the vent.

"Clint-" the billionaire began.

"Already on it," replied Clint's retreating voice.

"Do you think they know they have at least one super spy watching them?" asked Steve, meandering over to the kitchen to make another pot of coffee, one that he knew his genius of a husband would demand but didn't need.

"Emmy probably does," shrugged Tony, still staring at the elevator door. "I don't think Peter realizes it yet. Hey, did Emmy seem a little off to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know," said Tony, finally tearing his eyes away from the door and following the smell of brewing coffee and the sound of his husbands voice into the kitchen. "She seemed a bit tired, quieter than usual."

"Honey, Emmy's always quiet," said Steve with a soft smile. "Even now that she's started talking more she's still quiet."

"Yeah, you're right, I'm probably just overreacting."

Steve kissed Tony's temple before handing him a steaming mug of coffee, a dash of cream and honey already added to it for him.

"Probably."

-Home Base-

Emmy clung to Peter's hand as they made their way through the school yard. She had already turned back and waved goodbye to Uncle Clint and Uncle Bucky, both of whom had followed them to school, though Emmy didn't think Peter noticed. The kids jostled them and Peter was walking too quickly, causing Emmy to stumble more than once trying to keep up. She wanted to ask him to slow down but there were too many people.

"Alright, Emmy," said Peter, stopping in front of the kindergarten room. "Here's your room. Go play."

Peter gave her a quick hug before running off to join his friends down the hall. Emmy slowly entered the room, the usual noise that accompanied all kindergarteners causing her to cringe. She really wanted to go home where it was quiet and Daddy would let her hide under the table or Papa would cuddle her but she needed to try and be good. No one else needed to hide or got scared for no reason.

"Good morning, Emmy," said Mr. Lee. "How are you this morning?"

Emmy smiled weakly up at her teacher but didn't respond. She may have started talking at home, but school was still too big, too noisy, for her to find her voice. Emmy put her things in her cubby and found her spot on the carpet, the spot in the corner that allowed her to be a part of the group but not feel enclosed. She missed her blanket and stuffed dog. She wanted to suck her thumb but Tad, the six year old who was in kindergarten for the second time, called her a baby every time she did. So instead, Emmy sat quietly and waited for the bell to ring and everyone else to gather on the carpet.

"Kindergarten," called Mr. Lee a few minutes later, right after the shrill bell sounded. "I need you to gather on the carpet please."

The kids scrambled for their spots, hopping over and around Emmy in some cases to get there. Emmy let them, huddling farther into her sweatshirt as she did. Mr. Lee started singing the days of the week song, her classmates joining in with gusto, but Emmy did not. When they were sent to stations, Emmy walked to the math station, took one of her sheets that Mr. Lee kept within reach, sat down, and tried to lose herself in the math. It worked to a point but the moment Mr. Lee sat next to her to check on her, Emmy jumped, tears springing to her eyes.

"You seem a little sad today," stated Mr. Lee, not realizing that Emmy was trembling. "Are you okay?"

Emmy wanted so badly to nod, to just agree, but she also wanted to go home and sit with her Daddy and Papa and not be around all the loud people, but before she could answer, Tad started throwing crayons at Carol and Mr. Lee needed to go take care of that more than he needed to hear Emmy's response. By the time everyone settled back down, it was morning break, the one time in the entire day that all of the classes were outside playing together. It was only ten minutes long but always a crazy time with so many kids running amuck.

Before Emmy could find a quiet place to hide, Flash, the fourth grader, pushed her over.

"Get out of my way, squirt," yelled Flash, laughing as Emmy fell to the ground.

"Hey!" yelled Peter, causing Flash to stop. "That's my sister!"

"Oh that's right," said Flash, stopping sneering at Peter, who was helping Emmy up. "Little Peter Parker finally got himself a family. And look at that, your sister is a bigger freak than you! At least your eyes make sense, hers aren't even a real eye color!"

"Shut up," growled Peter, his hands balling into fists.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll make you shut up. My Papa says I don't have to put up with bullies like you, Flash."

"Your Papa? Isn't your Papa gay? Of course he'll tell you not to put up with bullies! He's too weak to fight them himself 'cause my dad says he's a fag and he has to by himself a kid to stand up for him. No wonder your sister is so weak. Look at her, crying like a baby."

With a yell, Peter punched Flash, then turned back around before the bigger boy could react and crouched next to Emmy, just like he had seen Papa and Dad do.

"Emmy," said Peter softly, holding his arms open. "Is today a bad day?"

Looking at Peter, then at Flash who was crying on the ground, then at the teacher who was running over, then back at Peter, who was still waiting for her to answer, Emmy nodded, tears gushing down her cheeks. She fell into Peter's arms and the boy lifted her up, letting her cry into his shoulder.

"What is going on here?" demanded the teacher, an older woman named Mrs. Dolores who looked rather like a bat.

"Peter punched Flash!" yelled the crowd of children, each eager to tell their harrowing tale of the playground fight that wasn't much of a fight.

"Yeah and Flash called Peter's dad a bad word!"

"Peter Parker!" yelled Mrs. Dolores to be heard over the kids.

"I need to call my Dad," said Peter, staring up at the third grade teacher. "Emmy needs to go home now."

"And who is Emmy?" demanded Mrs. Dolores.

"This is Emmy," said Peter with a sigh, as if he couldn't believe how stupid the teacher was being. "She's my little sister and she's having a bad day so she needs to go home."

"No she does not," said Mrs. Dolores. "Unless she is sick she does not need to go home. She will be fine. Now you, young man, are going to the principals office. We do not punch people."

"Fine," said Peter with a shrug. "Come on, Emmy, let's go see the principal."

"That girl is not coming with you!"

"The girl's name is Emmy and she's my sister and I'm taking her with me."

Mrs. Dolores reached down and tried to take Emmy out of Peter's arms. The moment the teacher touched her, Emmy let out an earsplitting scream and clung tighter to Peter. The fourth grader yanked out of reach and back away from the woman several steps.

"What is going on here?" asked Mr. Lee, marching over to see why the group had not responded to the bell ringing, signaling the end of the break.

"This boy punched another boy and now he will not let go of the girl so he can go to the office," explained Mrs. Dolores.

"Mr. Lee!" said Peter, his voice filled with relief as he tried to calm Emmy down, who was quivering and bawling while she clung to him. "Please, I really need to call my Papa. Emmy's having a really bad day and Mrs. Dolores won't let me and she tried to take Emmy and you're not allowed to take Emmy, it's a rule."

"Mrs. Dolores, I'll handle this, you should go get your class," said Mr. Lee.

With a huff, Mrs. Dolores marched away, ushering the rest of the students with her. Mr. Lee motioned for Flash, Peter, and Emmy to follow him and took them to the office.

"I don't get why I have to be here," grumbled Flash. "Peter hit me. He's the one who should be in trouble, not me."

"Ms. Patty," said Mr. Lee, ignoring Flash altogether. "Peter here needs to call his father. After that, these two boys will need to talk to the principal. They were fighting on the playground."

"Of course," said Ms. Patty, a small, elderly lady who had worked in the office of the school for more years than anyone could remember. She knew every student by name and easily dialed the correct number before handing the phone to Peter, who leaned against the wall, still holding his crying little sister.

"Hello?" came the voice on the other end of the line.

"Papa?" said Peter.

"Peter, what's wrong?" asked Steve, worry coming through the line loud and clear.

"Um, I think you should come get Emmy," said Peter, looking down at his sister. "She's having a bad day and Mrs. Dolores tried to take her from me and I punched Flash because he used a bad word and can Dad come because Emmy's real upset?"

Steve sighed before answering. "I'm on my way, I'll be there in two minutes."

Peter looked down at the trembling toddler in his arms who was clutching him as if he were her only protection from the rest of the world, the only thing keeping her together.

"It's okay, Emmy," whispered Peter, imitating the rocking motion he had seen Steve and Tony do many times when she was upset. "I won't let anything happen to you. Papa will be here soon."

 ***So now that I have established that Peter is happy and Emmy is adjusting (not well but getting there) things are going to start happening. Things. Read into that what you will. Always-Ari**


	4. Steve is So Done

"Mr. Rogers," greeted Ryan Bass, emerging from his office when he heard Ms. Patty greet the superhero.

Steve ignored him, kneeling instead to hug his children.

"Peter, Emmy, what happened?" asked Steve, pulling out of the hug only far enough to see his son properly, transferring Emmy from the fourth graders grasp into his own arms easily.

"Flash pushed Emmy down at break," said Peter, his distress clear in the tears he was fighting back. "So I told him to leave her alone and he called you a naughty word so I punched him and Emmy was scared then Mrs. Dolores tried to take her from me and she panicked and there was yelling and Mr. Lee came over and took us to the office and I called you."

"Okay, okay," said Steve, rubbing Peter's back to calm the boy who had gotten more visibly upset the longer he spoke. "You did the right thing, sweetie. I'm proud of you."

"Mr. Rogers," said Mr. Bass, louder in an attempt to get Steve's attention. "We need to discuss the incident that happened during break this morning."

"Of course," said Steve pleasantly.

"If you would please allow Ms. Patty to take the girl back to class, we can leave Peter and Flash to wait while we talk."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"Emmy, I need you to stay with Petey right now," said Steve softly, attempting to pry the young girl off of him.

Emmy shook her head and hugged him tighter.

"Baby please, I'm just going into the next room."

"Papa, I don't think she's going to let go," whispered Peter. "She was having a bad day before Mrs. Dolores broke the rule."

"What rule, Pete?"

"The Strangers Aren't Allowed to Touch Emmy rule," said Peter plainly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Especially girls. Only Auntie Nat can touch her."

"You're a very smart young man," said Steve, his voice barely containing his awe. "You're probably right. Okay, Mr. Bass, I guess this conversation is going to have to happen with young ears present. Wait here, Peter."

Steve strode into the office once Peter sat dutifully on one of the hard brown chairs, swinging his legs while Flash pouted next to him.

"Mr. Rogers, I really must insist that Emmy go back to class," said Mr. Bass, shutting the door behind him and moving to sit behind his desk while Steve remained standing, swaying absently with Emmy in his arms.

"You didn't read her file at all, did you?" said Steve in disgust. "Go ahead, get her file out of that nice filing cabinet; grab Peter's while you're at it. We might as well discuss them both."

"I'm not concerned about Emmy," said Mr. Bass tiredly. "I am concerned about Peter's violent display on the playground. I understand that you adopted both children. Well this type of behavior was uncommon for Peter before you took him in but this is the third time I've had complaints about him acting out. I want to know if this is him acting out because the adoption was too much of a change or if it is his nature to react violently to things that upset him."

"Excuse me?"

"It is not uncommon among such children to be emotionally disturbed, as you clearly have discovered with your adoptive daughter."

"Stop right there," snapped Steve, glaring daggers at the principal and wishing that Tony wasn't in the middle of a board meeting so they could handle the situation together. "Let's get this straight right now. Emmaline is my daughter and Peter is my son, not 'adoptive' or any other prefix you want to apply, they are mine, the end. Second, since you didn't bother reading Emmy's file, I will give you a summary.

"Emmy has been through more than you can imagine. She was abused for years before she came to us, she suffers from PTSD, anxiety, and separation anxiety. She doesn't handle women well since women have caused her the most harm. She is painfully shy, a genius, and the sweetest little girl you will ever meet. Yes, she has problems but after what she's been through I'm just impressed that she is as kind as willing to be around humans as she is.

"And as for Peter, he is not emotionally disturbed. He is a well adjusted kid who has been handling being bullied by Flash for several months. Peter doesn't react with violence unless he needs to. If Peter says Flash pushed his little sister and called me a nasty word then I believe him. Perhaps you should be analyzing why one of your students is using such language."

"Mr. Rogers, please be reasonable," said Mr. Bass. "I can't just allow students to punch other students, just like I shouldn't allow you to have your daughter, a student of this school, in this meeting."

"I'm sorry, which part of 'My daughter has PTSD and anxiety' did you not understand?"

"You are coddling her!" snapped Mr. Bass, slamming his hand on the desk with a bang and standing up. "She would be fine in class or even waiting outside like your son! If she's so smart then she will understand that she is safe here and that you need to be away from her for a few minutes to deal with her brother's misbehavior."

"Sh, sh, it's okay, Emmy, you're okay," said Steve quietly to the girl who was entering a full blown panic attack. "Thank you for this. You can feel free to explain to a four year old what those things are; she's a genius but she's still four. All she knows is that sometimes she's scared and sad and can't stop it. Yelling like you were really doesn't help, nor do loud noises."

Mr. Bass had the good grace to look apologetic but did not vocalize his emotions.

"Look," sighed Steve, still rocking Emmy. "I'm not saying I approve of Peter hitting Flash, I don't and I will talk to him about it, but I'm saying that you should probably talk to Flash about why Peter would want to punch him. You should also do a better job of notifying your staff about triggers your students have so we can avoid these situations where you and your staff send a little girl into a panic. If you decide to follow procedure, Peter will be suspended for the rest of the day and tomorrow for fighting, correct?"

"I – yes," said Mr. Bass lamely.

"Okay, then I'll just take him and Emmy home before any further damage is done."

Mr. Bass let the super soldier leave, unsure of if he meant before Peter did more damage or before more emotional damage was done to Emmy. Either way, Mr. Bass knew that he was not paid enough for this job.

-Home Base-

"Are you mad?" asked Peter when they were sitting in the living room.

"Why do you think I would be mad?" asked Steve calmly, sitting on the ground with Emmy in his lap.

"Because I punched Flash," said Peter, his head hanging in shame.

"Why did you punch Flash?"

"He pushed Emmy! And Emmy is little and he was being mean to her and then he called you a naughty name and Emmy was crying and I just got so mad that I hit him."

"You shouldn't hit because you're mad," said Steve. "But I'm not mad at you for standing up for your family. Next time, don't hit first."

"Okay."

The three sat in silence for a little while, Emmy's unsettled breathing the only thing to break the otherwise calm atmosphere. Eventually, Peter wandered off to his room to read a book – something about spiders – and left Steve and Emmy sitting on the ground.

"Sweetheart?" asked Steve when he felt Emmy finally settle down. "Why didn't you tell Daddy or me that you were having a bad day?"

She wanted to reply, she really did, to tell Steve everything, but she couldn't find the words. It was as if they had deserted her, leaving her brain in search of other people, more loquacious people, people who would use those words instantly and not wait until they were absolutely certain they wouldn't get punished before breaking them out.

"Steve, I got your messages," said Tony, tumbling through the elevator in his blue business suit, the one he wore for the meetings he wanted to be at. "Where's Peter? Is he okay? Why did he get in a fight? What about Emmy? I knew something was wrong this morning!"

"Relax," said Steve, tilting his head back against the couch to look back at his husband. "Peter is fine, he's reading in his room right now. He's suspended for a day for punching Flash."

"Kid probably deserved it," said Tony under his breath.

"Do you want to talk to him first or do you want to talk to Emmy first?"

Tony made grabby hands at his daughter, just like Steve knew he would, so the super soldier handed her over.

"Hey Ducky," said Tony. "Rough day?"

"One of the female teachers tried to take her from Peter on the playground," said Steve when Emmy didn't answer. "I was sort of hoping she would talk to you. She hasn't spoken since."

With a soft sigh, Tony made to walk around the couch and sit down so he could talk to Emmy more comfortably when the Avengers alarm sounded.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" yelled Tony glaring at the ceiling as if that would make it stop.


	5. Pizza with Coulson

"Peter, Uncle Phil is going to be here in a few minutes," said Steve, adjusting his cowl while he spoke. "He's going to be staying with you both until we can come back. Be good, okay?"

"Okay," said Peter, anxiously shifting from foot to foot as he watched everyone but Tony (who was already flying towards the conflict a few states away) and Thor (who was somewhere with Jane) get ready to go into battle. "You're coming back, right?"

"Of course, honey," said Steve, kneeling down and giving his son a hug. "We'll always come back for you."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," said Peter quietly, his brown hair flopping into his face. "Not everyone comes back."

"I promise you, Peter," said Steve seriously, holding the boy at arms length and staring into his eyes. "We are your family now and someone will always come back for you. I love you."

"Love you too, Papa."

"Emmy?" called Steve, looking over at the young girl who was pouting in the corner behind the decorative fern. "You want to come get a hug before we leave?"

Emmy didn't respond, merely curled up further on herself, hands over her ears as if she honestly believed that blocking out sound would make everything else go away. Steve sighed and walked over to where his daughter was hiding.

"I love you, baby," said Steve softly, kissing the top of Emmy's head before heading back to the elevator with the rest of the Avengers.

Coulson arrived seconds before the Avengers left, nodded reassuringly at Steve, and stepped into the living room.

"Uncle Phil," said Peter softly, looking at where the elevator had closed, effectively cutting off all visual contact he had with his Papa. "Can we go get pizza?"

"Why don't we order in?" suggested Coulson, looking around the room until he spotted Emmy in her hiding place.

"Because Emmy is sad and scared and I think walking to get pizza would help calm her down," said Peter.

"Oh you do?" said Coulson, knowing full well that when Emmy was scared she did not want to be around strangers; Peter was suggesting the trip to help him not get scared.

"Yup," said Peter, taking to the idea like a duck to water. "See, if we were walking around she wouldn't be just sitting and thinking about how scared she is. Please?"

"Alright," said Coulson with a slight smile. "Let's go get pizza."

Peter ran and fetched his and Emmy's shoes, helping the girl put hers on before putting on his own while Coulson observed them interacting. Emmy clearly had no interest in going out since normally she insisted on doing everything herself but was allowing Peter to help her with her shoes, but she also wasn't throwing a fit to stay in, so she must not have been opposed. When Peter stood up and grabbed her smaller hand, Coulson couldn't hide a grin because while Emmy didn't relax, she did lean closer to her older brother, and progress was progress.

The streets were busy but not unusually so. Together the three walked to the pizza shop that had become a favorite among the Avengers over the years. Peter told Coulson all about the book he was reading on spiders, the fractions he learned in math, how much he did not like Flash, really anything that came to mind, and Coulson nodded along and made approving or disapproving sounds at all the right places. Emmy said nothing, but no one had expected her to.

"Alright, what type of pizza do we want?" asked Coulson, seemingly staring up at the menu while really watching Emmy for any reaction the girl may unconsciously give but never vocalize. Tony was way better at reading the girl.

Emmy glanced behind her to the two large men who were standing uncomfortably close, sidling closer to Peter before looking back at the menu. Tugging on Peter's sleeve, she pointed to one picture.

"Which one do you want, Em?" asked Peter, crouching next to her to follow her eye line better. "The chicken pesto?"

"What abou-" began Coulson before he was struck over the head with a heavy baton, sending him right to the ground.

"Let's go, kids," said one of the men, the one who had a scraggly reddish mustache that needed to be combed and then shaved off entirely, reaching down and putting a heavy hand on Peter's shoulder, trying to steer him out of the relatively quiet pizza shop. All of the patrons were frozen in horror at the massive gun the other man was waving around.

"No," said Peter bravely, glaring up at the mustache man. "My Papa won't be happy with you, so you just leave us alone."

"Kid, I know your dad is Captain America and Iron Man," growled mustache man. "That's sorta the draw of kidnapping you. They'll both pay through the nose to get their precious little bundles of joy back. Now move of I'll shoot the girl."

Peter looked down at Emmy, who had strayed from his side in the excitement and was on the ground next to Coulson, yanking desperately at his coat, demanding to get him to wake up to no avail, a small handgun pointed at her head courtesy of mustache man.

"Come on, Emmy," whispered Peter, tears choking his voice when he realized there was no getting away, that he was going to be taken from his family, the one he'd had for only a few short months. "We have to go now."

Emmy looked up, took in the gun pointed at herself, the large man holding the crowd captive, mustache man glaring impatiently at the window looking for police, and finally Peter, who was trying not to cry and holding out his hand for her to take. Her heart sunk and settled somewhere in her stomach and when mustache man decided he was done waiting and fired his gun, the rest of her world exploded into painful darkness and screams that belonged to Peter.


	6. Stolen

"Sir," said JARVIS as Tony fired at yet another Doombot. "I have an incoming call for you."

"Little bit busy, J," grunted Tony, spinning in midair to avoid return fire.

"It's from Agent Coulson."

Tony paused for a second. Agent never called him, especially not when he knew Tony was in the middle of a battle.

"Put it through," said Tony.

Muffled noise came through the speaker, someone with a deep voice was talking, crackling as the phone was moved from one place to another.

"Hello?" said Tony. "Agent, I swear if you butt dialed me I'm going to make sure I call you every time you're getting hot and heavy with your cellist."

"Come on, Emmy," came Peter's voice. He sounded scared. He wasn't supposed to sound scared, not ever and especially not when in the care of Agent. "We have to go now."

"Peter?" yelled Tony. "Peter, what's going on? Peter?'

A gunshot rang out, far closer to the speaker than Tony cared to think about, followed instantaneously by Peter screaming, then the line went dead.

If it hadn't been for JARVIS, Tony would have fallen out of the air but the AI caught his creator, taking over the suit to keep Tony flying and out of danger.

"JARVIS," said Tony quietly after a minute. "What just happened?"

"I'm tracking the phone now, sir," replied JARVIS. "Shall I inform the others?"

"How many more bots?"

"Twelve, sir."

"Take them out now."

JARVIS shot with the accuracy that only came from artificial intelligence, swiftly abolishing the rest of the threat, much to everyone's surprise, before landing the suit next to Steve. Tony all but fell out of it into the super soldiers waiting arms and though Steve was surprised he caught his genius with the ease born from years of exhausted collapses and panic attacks.

"Tony," said Steve urgently. "What's wrong? Did you get hit?"

"Phone call," gasped Tony, trembling in his husbands arms. "J-JARVIS."

"What about JARVIS?"

"I believe Sir wishes me to tell you that he received a phone call from Agent Coulson's phone a few minutes ago," said JARVIS, his crisp voice sounding in all of the Avengers ear pieces. "Although not very clear, it sounded as though Peter and Emmy were in distress. Gunshots were fired and Peter was screaming when the line cut out. I am tracking the phone now."

"Son of a bitch," cursed Steve.

"Get in the jet," growled Clint, marching in to take the pilots seat. The archer didn't wait until everyone was seated – he barely waited until everyone was inside – before lifting the jet off of the ground and pushing it to its limits in his rush to get back to New York.

"Should we try calling the phone back?" asked Steve, pacing the open area if the jet restlessly while Tony sat on the ground behind Clint's seat, messing with a tablet.

"Too dangerous," said Natasha. "I doubt the guys know the kids have to phone with them, calling could alert them to it and then we would lose our fastest link."

"You really think they were kidnapped?"

"If they weren't that was the worlds worst butt dial of all time," replied Tony, not looking up from whatever it was he was working on.

"Coulson is with them," said Natasha, catching Steve's arm as he passed. "They'll be fine, he won't let anything happen to them."

Any comfort that statement held was lost when they arrived at the scene of the crime, the pizza shop, and found Coulson arguing with an EMT who was trying to get him in to have his head wound looked at.

"I will take care of it myself, now please move or I will make you move," said Coulson, sounding calm but looking worse for wear.

"I'll take care of him, sir," said Bruce, stepping up to diffuse the situation. "I'm a doctor."

"Whatever," said the EMT, throwing his hands up in frustration. "I've got about thirty more serious calls to deal with. He's your problem."

"I'm fine, Bruce," said Coulson even as he swayed from turning too quickly.

"Sit here," said Bruce, shoving Coulson onto a chair at one of the high tables in the restaurant, standing behind him and inspecting the blooding wound.

"What happened?" demanded Steve.

In the background, Clint and Natasha moved around the crime scene, taking in all the details and storing away the pertinent information for later use. Music played through the speakers, a song that was appropriately sad and desperate at the same time.

"I know that you can't hear me but baby I need you to save me tonight," sang the country artist over the radio.

"I was hit from behind while we waited in line to order," said Coulson, eyes downcast in shame. "Peter and Emmy were trying to pick a pizza and I was watching Emmy because she hadn't spoken at all. Then I was hit from behind. When I woke up, they were gone."

"Is that your blood?" asked Tony, pointing to a sizable puddle of blood on the ground.

"No," said Coulson, indicating a slightly blood splattered pot a few feet north of the puddle Tony was eyeing. "My head was up there."

"Then whose blood is that?" asked Tony.

No one seemed willing to answer, not the police officers, the agents pilling around, or the super spies who knew everything and guessed the rest. And still the country song played in the background.

-Home Base-

Emmy stirred, the slight movement sending fire radiating throughout her body, almost sending her back into the darkness but she stubbornly clawed her way back out, forcing her eyes open just a crack. She was greeted by the sight of Peter's chest, the boy wearing his favorite long sleeved red shirt but not his usual zipper up sweater. His heart beat quickly under her ear but the only other sound around was the steady thrum of the engine, softer than that of the jet but louder than any of Daddy's cars.

"Emmy?" whispered Peter, looking down at the messy red head that he had been using to rest his chin on until that point. "You awake?"

Emmy nodded slightly, biting back a hiss of pain when the nod hurt.

"Careful, baby girl," whispered Peter, one hand that had been at her waist going up to cup her head, using the term of endearment for her that he had adopted from Clint. "You're hurt."

Rolling her eyes, Emmy found, didn't send waves of pain coursing through her body, and Peter was comfortable and warm. As much as she wanted to staying safely ensconced in his arms, however, she knew she had to tell him.

"Don't worry, Emmy," whispered Peter in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "Daddy and Papa will find us soon. I know they will."

"Petey," said Emmy, her voice barely a whisper, weak and soft and scared. "Got a phone."

"What?"

"Don't tell. Stole Uncle Agent's phone."

Peter froze. They had a phone. Emmy had taken Uncle Phil's phone.

"You are the most incredible little sister ever," said Peter, kissing the top of Emmy's head, hope he had previously been faking filling his entire being for real as he realized that maybe, just maybe, they could make it out of this thing alive.


	7. Unguarded

Not a single Avenger even wanted to feel sorry for the people who had kidnapped Peter and Emmy. Under normal circumstances they were a merciful lot, they brought people in when they could instead of killing them - each of them had too much of a past to feel good about making the call to kill anyone - but these were not normal circumstances. Someone had walked away with two of their own, had harmed another, and they would pay. Slowly. Painfully. In every way they could possibly fear.

"Talk to me," said Steve softly, practically begging Tony to acknowledge him as they worked on tracing the phone to a concrete location, something proving more challenging since Tony had been the one to design the anti-trace feature. "Please."

They were in the back of a stake out van headed in the general direction of the phone, having narrowed it down to the three closest towers at least. Steve and Tony were riding separately with Bruce, Clint, and Natasha in another borrowed SUV behind them. When they found the location, Tony and Steve were going to attack the main portion of kidnappers – assuming there were more than two – while the super spy twins found the kids and Bruce waited patiently in case they needed help from the Big Guy. Bucky was at the Tower guarding it in case it was an elaborate trap to get the Avengers out so someone could infiltrate their home. The ex-Russian assassin was not happy about being left behind but one look from Steve had him holding his tongue against further protest.

"What do you want me to say, Steve?" snapped Tony, alternating between screens around him in the cramped space at the back of the military grade van, each running a different version to trace the phone.

"Anything. Something. I'm going crazy here."

"Which kid do you think is going to be more screwed up by this experience, Peter or Emmy?" said Tony bitterly. "My money is on Peter, Emmy is an old hat by now, Peter is going through this for the first time and has to pretend to be brave for Emmy."

"They're going to be fine."

"No, they are going to have issues. Hell, they already have issues. And Emmy is hurt. We don't have time for this."

"Why are you so convinced it's Emmy who's hurt?" demanded Steve.

"Because Peter would have had the sense to comply with whatever demands the men were making!" yelled Tony, finally turning away from the screens and glaring at Steve, all of his pent up emotions spilling over. "Emmy is four! She's young and she's scared and she's entirely too smart for her own good! If anything happened, Emmy would have gone for Agent's phone, you know she would! She would see the opportunity, known the bastards wouldn't be paying close attention to a girl crying over her downed nanny, and taken it. And she was shot for her trouble. Peter told her to go and she didn't! She was so stupid! She should have just done what they asked. She should have- she's just a kid!"

"I know, love," whispered Steve, pulling his broken and sobbing husband into his arms, tears filling his eyes as well. "I know. I've got you. We're going to get them back."

"I can't lose them too," admitted Tony to Steve's chest, the only place he really seemed to admit any of his fears.

"We won't," said Steve, even though he wasn't sure that was true while somewhere in the background a computer beeped completion.

-Home Base-

"And then Uncle Clint fell out of his hammock," said Emmy, finishing her whispered story to Peter, who had listened, equally enthralled with the tale of his family before he joined and the fact that Emmy just said more words in one sitting than he had heard her say in all the time he had known her.

For her part, Emmy was exhausted from the short story, the effort of talking, the pain of the gunshot wound, all of it. Closing her eyes, she burrowed further into Peter's sweat shirt and arms, allowing Peter to pull her closer. They had long since been transferred from the car into some type of warehouse. It was one of those big, empty ones and Peter and Emmy huddled in the corner together. Peter wanted to laugh at how cliché of a place it was, to be held captive in a warehouse. It made it more romantic and fantastic if he pretended it was a game, less terrifying and life threatening than having to deal with the idea that his little sister was injured in front of him.

The bad guys hadn't even bothered to put a guard with them. They were not tied up at all. In fact, in theory, they could get up and walk out the heavily guarded front bay door if they wanted. Emmy had tried to get Peter to do so, her attempts half hearted at best, but Peter refused to leave her and Emmy couldn't make that walk. Besides, they didn't know where exactly they were or what they would find outside, so even if they made it out without being seen (unlikely) the odds of them finding their way home were slim at best. Instead, Peter had done his best to secure his sweat shirt around Emmy and her wound, the shirt being big enough and the girl small enough that it could accomplish both and still have fabric left over.

Then there was noise coming from the far end of the ware house. Lots of noise. Gun shot type noise.

Emmy whimpered.

"It's okay, Emmy," said Peter, turning so his back was to the rest of the room and he was facing the corner, Emmy in his lap and shielded as best he could. "Sh, it's going to be okay. It's all going to be over soon."

"Hey kids," came a familiar voice behind Peter, a rough hand falling onto his shoulder. "It's time to go."

 ***I know, it's short but it was the best stopping point for a while, so I took it and ran with it. Always-Ari**


	8. Stubborn Runs in the Family

Peter turned his head to look over his shoulder and found himself looking up at the smiling faces of Clint and Natasha, both decked out in their battle gear.

"Where's Papa?" asked Peter softly, fearfully.

"Outside beating up the bad guys," said Natasha. "And your Daddy is making a scene, you know how dramatic he can be. Now let's get you out of here before the idiots think to come check on you."

"Emmy's hurt," said Peter, allowing Clint to scoop the four year old up before Natasha lifted him and settled him on her hip. "They shot her."

"They can't hurt you now, honey," said Natasha, following Clint back the way they came, along the shadowed metal wall until they hit a low door.

They crawled through the door and into the waiting plain black SUV. Natasha and Clint both climbed into the back seat, closing the door just in time for Bruce, who had been waiting in the drivers side, to take off. They shot through the warehouse district and back towards the city proper, Bruce skillfully avoiding the fight taking place at the front of the warehouse. When they had tracked the phone to it's stopping point, they all agreed that Steve and Tony would take on the bad guys because, quite frankly, the two were too pissed off to be content with simply rescuing their lost children, they had to also annihilate the threat. Clint and Natasha would sneak in and find them. Bruce would wait in the car in case they were needed, and Bucky would stay at the tower to make sure it wasn't an elaborate trap to break in while the Avengers were away.

"I knew you'd come and save us," said Peter, sitting on Natasha's lap, looking shell shocked, dirty, but otherwise unharmed.

"Always," said Natasha, kissing the top of Peter's messy hair. "Now rest. You did so well."

Peter wanted to protest, to stay awake, but the stress of the entire ordeal was catching up to him and now that he was safely with his family he couldn't seem to keep his eyes open. Natasha singing softly to him while petting his hair only aided in sending him farther into dream land.

"Where does it hurt, baby girl?" asked Clint, looking at his own little bundle.

Emmy pointed at her foot where Peter's favorite sweat shirt was wrapped around it in a crude bandage, blood seeping through in places.

"Oh sweetheart, that looks painful," cooed Clint. "When we get back home, let's let Uncle Bruce take a look at it, okay?"

Emmy nodded and burrowed further into Clint's arms, trying to lose herself in his comforting scent and warmth, hiding away from the warehouse and the men with guns who pointed them at Peter. Clint and Bruce continued talking as Bruce sped down the road but Emmy tuned them out, everything but the gentle thrum of the car and the steady beat of Clint's heart.

Clint could tell Emmy was going into shock and made her sip some water as her shivering increased. Bruce was driving so far above the speed limit and hitting no traffic that Coulson had to be involved. Steve and Tony were just finishing up wailing on the kidnappers and would make it back to the Tower about ten minutes after them.

"ETA?" asked Clint, holding the water bottle yet again to Emmy's lips, coaxing the young girl into taking tiny sips.

"Two minutes," replied Bruce. "Bucky's already waiting and has set up everything in my workshop."

"I'm not waking Peter up," said Natasha softly. "I'll just carry him in. We'll wait on the common floor in the pit."

Bruce slowed the car to a gentle stop and threw it in park as Bucky wrenched up Natasha's door and Clint gingerly got out of the car on the other side, Emmy whimpering as the movement jarred her aching body.

"What the hell took you so long?" growled Bucky, anxiously looking over Peter as he walked Natasha and the rest to their private elevator.

"Considering we made the drive in 45 minutes, I think we did pretty well," replied Bruce briskly.

Bucky said nothing in return, merely followed Clint and Bruce to Bruce's workshop while Natasha continued up to their communal floor. When Clint tried to set Emmy down on the cot, a panicked look crossed her face and her breathing sped up.

"Hey, okay, sorry," said Clint, easily moving to sit down himself, keeping Emmy in his lap. "I'm not leaving. We talked about this, remember? Uncle Bruce needs to check your ouch."

Emmy nodded.

"Hey Emmy," said Bruce, setting his typical black bag on the edge of the bed next to Clint's legs. "I'm going to fix you up, okay? First I'm going to give you a little shot so it won't hurt anymore. Is that okay?"

Emmy shook her head no, tears threatening to spill over her cheeks, the pain, terror, and emotions of the day draining her bravery now that she was around people she trusted, people she knew could be brave for her.

"JARVIS, call Tony," said Bucky, pacing the room and picking up the nearest tablet.

JARVIS established a connection and Tony's face appeared on the screen, hair a bit of a dripping, sweaty mess but otherwise his face was calm, much more calm than they had seen since the call from Coulson's phone had come in.

"Talk to your daughter," said Bucky gruffly, handing the tablet to Clint, who held it in front of Emmy, allowing the girl to maintain her grip on his shirt.

"Ducky!" cheered Tony, his face lighting up at the sight of his daughter. "How's my favorite girl?"

With one hand, Emmy signed out what happened, Tony listening intently, nodding along as she signed, not commenting on her regression to silence.

"Well, it sounds like you need to let Uncle Bruce take a look at your ouch," said Tony. "Can you do that for me? I'll be there in two minutes with Papa but you really need to let Uncle Bruce fix you up. Please?"

Emmy shook her head again, more tears escaping her eyes.

"Okay, don't cry Ducky," said Tony. "One minute, we'll be there in less than a minute. Twenty seconds."

Tony flew into the lab, Steve clinging to his red back. The suit was off and Tony was running to the bed with Steve before anyone could react.

"Baby," said Steve, plucking Emmy off of Clint's lap and pulling her into a hug. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"Daddy," whispered Emmy, leaning towards Tony but staying in Steve's arms.

"Right here, Ducky," said Tony.

"Go see Petey," whispered Emmy into Tony's ear. "He's scared."

"Papa will stay here with you," said Tony, kissing Emmy's head. "You're very good for thinking of your brother. I love you, sweetie."

Tony kissed Steve and rushing up to check on Peter with Clint behind him. Steve sat down on the vacated spot with Emmy and Bruce moved forward again to take a look at the gunshot would.

"Will you let Uncle Bruce take a look at your ouch now?" asked Steve, stroking Emmy's hair while one arm remained around her waist. "I promise I'll stay with you but you need to let him take a look or we will have to go to the hospital."

Emmy nodded and Bruce set to work. It took a while and after a time, Steve managed to lull Emmy to sleep, the pain medication aiding.

Upstairs, Peter had woken up and was sitting on Tony's lap, telling his entire harrowing story excitedly, the whole thing leaving him less scarred and more excited than anything else now that he was safely back with his family. Tony knew there would be nightmares and anxiety but as Natasha handed Peter some hot chocolate and Clint put on a movie while they waited for the others, the billionaire couldn't help but think about how lucky they were with the ending of the events; no one from their side had ended up dead and those of the kidnappers who had survived were currently being interrogated by Agent Coulson. Tony almost felt bad for the men, but then he looked up from his son to his husband entering the room with their daughter in his arms, thick bandage around her foot and leg, and that feeling went away.


	9. Nightmares

_They were there, standing over him with a gun pointed at his face, telling him to shut up or they would kill him. He wanted to be brave, he wanted to make his new fathers proud, to protect Emmy from the bad men, but he was terrified. They wouldn't stop yelling and they took Emmy away. She was crying and screaming, reaching for him, but they wouldn't let her go._

 _"_ _Please," Peter begged. "Please, leave her alone! I swear I'll be good, just leave her alone."_

 _The men laughed before shooting Emmy and throwing her lifeless body at Peter's feet._

"No!" screamed Peter.

He sat up in a cold sweat, screaming and crying out in the dark.

"Peter!" exclaimed Steve, rushing into the room, having been alerted to the boys growing distress a minute prior to him waking. "Honey, it's okay, you're safe, it was just a dream."

Peter launched himself at Steve, sobbing into the super soldiers white undershirt while Steve gathered him close and carried the boy back to his own room. Tony was still asleep, his head on Steve's pillow, but he woke up when Steve sat on the edge of the bed with Peter, who was doing nothing to muffle his sobs.

"Nightmare," whispered Steve over Peter's head, even though he didn't need to explain – Tony had expected it.

In way of answer, Tony rolled over to allow more room on the enormous bed for Steve and Peter to settle in while the genius began telling a story about the time Dummy had decided to make smoothies for each of the members of Parliament. Eventually, Peter's sobs quieted as he began listening to Tony talk, though he refused to let go of Steve's hand. After an hour – which was twenty seven minutes longer than Tony had estimated the boy would fight sleep – Peter succumbed to his bodies demands and fell back asleep.

"I owe you ten," said Steve softly. "I really thought Emmy would be the one to wake up."

"Call it even, I didn't think he'd last as long as he did," yawned Tony. "Besides, Emmy took something for the pain before she went to sleep, we have at least another two hours before it wears off."

Steve hummed in acknowledgement, smoothing down Peter's hair.

"Has Emmy spoken to you yet?" asked Steve after several minutes.

"No," sighed Tony, blinking open his eyes and resigning himself to being awake for the rest of the night; he hadn't been joking when he said they only had two hours at best before Emmy woke screaming and she rarely settled back down once she had a nightmare.

"I think we should get her into counseling," said Steve. "Both of them."

"I think Peter would benefit from that," said Tony, moving to sit up against the pillows, pulling his tablet from the bedside table and beginning to work, the colors inverted so the glow was minimum. "Agent will find someone for him. He's good at that."

"And Emmy?"

"It's worth a try," said Tony. "But one or both of us will have to go with her."

"Isn't that something you normally do alone? I'm not saying no, but isn't the whole idea to get her to open up? Won't that be easier without us there?"

"No. This is Emmy we're talking about. She didn't even talk to us for weeks after we got her, I highly doubt putting her in a room with a stranger will be good for her."

The two talked logistics of therapy until JARVIS interrupted them one hour and forty-seven minutes later, informing them that Emmy had indeed woken up distressed.

"Pete's asleep on you," said Tony. "I'll get her. I'll just take her to the common room, I don't want to wake him up."

"No," said Steve, sitting up slightly, eyes wide and alarmed. "Please, can't you bring her in here? I need to make sure she's okay."

Tony handed Steve his tablet while leaning over and kissing Steve's temple.

"Let Pete sleep," Tony whispered.

Steve looked down as Tony left and saw that his husband had pulled up live feed of Emmy's room. He couldn't keep the goofy grin off his face that Bucky always teased him about because while the media couldn't seem to understand why he was with Tony, this was proof. Tony always did things, little and big, for everyone but especially Steve. And Steve knew he couldn't wake Peter up, the boy needed sleep, but he selfishly wanted to make sure Emmy was okay as well and Tony gave him a way.

"Hey Ducky," said Tony, picking Emmy up out of her bed, dragging her blanket and dog with him and he gently rocked her. "Nightmare?"

Emmy nodded, clinging to him.

"Want to tell me about it?"

Emmy shook her head no.

"Do you want to go back to my room? Petey is asleep in there with Papa already, so we would have to be quiet. Or we can go to the kitchen and get a drink or the workshop and make things explode."

Emmy made the sign for wanting to go to Steve.

"Okay," said Tony. "We'll go see Papa. But we gotta be quiet, okay?"

Emmy nodded and curled up even more, working to make herself impossibly small. Tony absently hummed "Hey Jude" as he walked, not a huge Beatles fan but the song had a soothing melody. When they reached the master bedroom, Steve was already holding open the blankets for the two miss members of his family to burrow under.

"Hey baby," said Steve, reaching his free hand out to smooth over Emmy's hair. "Sorry you had a bad dream."

Emmy wriggled over to Peter, who was still fast asleep in the middle of the bed, acting as a fleshy barrier between the husbands. Once there, she inspected the boy, reaching out tentatively, as if to make sure he was real. Then she looked up at Steve and Tony.

For a long moment it seemed like she was going to say something to them, she took a deep breath, opened her mouth, paused, and then softly let the air back out. They were disappointed, Emmy could tell by the way Papa's shoulders hunched and Daddy's eyes flickered sadly. They were disappointed that she wouldn't talk to them anymore and she didn't want to disappoint them.

Creating a tiny fist, Emmy brought it up to her chest and made small circles, telling them she was sorry in the only way she could.

"Emmy," said Tony softly, one finger reaching down and tilting his daughter's chin up until their eyes met. "Don't you ever be sorry for not talking. Okay? We all have our quirks. Papa doesn't like ice or snow. I don't swim. Peter hates the color yellow. Uncle Bruce doesn't like yelling. Auntie Natasha only listens to classical music. Uncle Thor doesn't like to talk about his brother. Uncle Clint won't swim underwater unless the lights are off. Uncle Bucky never bow tie noodles. We all have things we do that other people don't. You don't talk but never be sorry about it. Okay?"

Emmy nodded slightly.

"Okay," said Tony, pulling the girl back to him while easing up next to Peter and Steve so the family was one big pile of warm bodies and blankets. "Now try to sleep. Papa has a special surprise planned for you tomorrow."


	10. Pictures

The pictures had been Steve's idea. Of course they had, Steve was the only one who ever thought of taking group pictures, real group pictures, ones that had to be developed in dark rooms and put in frames and hung on stairwells or wherever people hung pictures. In the end, however, it didn't matter who had suggested pictures – even though it was Steve – because that was how the Avengers found themselves outside the city limits, dressed casually, with a photographer in her mid-thirties, getting ready to take professional photographs.

"Why don't we start with the young ones?" suggested the photographer named Melissa. "That way they don't get too messy or cranky."

"That's not normally an issue," assured Steve, fixing Peter's button up plaid shirt. "They're pretty well behaved."

Emmy was busy hiding behind Tony, still unsure of what she thought about the new woman with the camera. Tony let her hide knowing that trying to force her out would end in disaster, and instead talked to Clint about the newest long range bow he was working on. He wanted to keep the power but lose the size, making it easier to pack and carry. Thor had already made himself at home on the picnic blanket they had brought, staring up at the clouds with Natasha and Bruce, content to let the brisk spring breeze blow over them.

"Okay, Peter, why don't you and your sister come over by this tree for a few shots," said Melissa, her round face smiling at the young kids.

"Come on, Emmy," said Peter, running over to Emmy and picking the toddler up. "Let's go take some pictures."

Reluctantly, Emmy allowed Peter to carry her, doing her best to keep her brother between Melissa and herself. Her dark wash blue jeans and tiny black boots hid the bandage on her foot and leg well but walking was still off limits, which was fine with everyone – especially Emmy – because Emmy was particularly clingy after the latest kidnapping episode. She was fine with the situation – not happy but fine – until Melissa reached out for her to position her for the picture.

Instantly the relaxed, careless atmosphere disappeared, replaced by a tense, alert group of superheros. Peter took a step back, turning away from Melissa so that his back was to her and Emmy was mostly out of reach. Tony and Steve both rushed forward and Melissa took a step back, shocked at the reactions from the group.

"Um, I'm sorry," said Melissa uncertainly, her northern accent coming out to play in her nerves. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, sorry, we should have warned you," said Steve, his hand on Peter's back while Tony kneeled beside the kids, talking softly to them. "Emmy doesn't do well with most strangers, especially women. It's better if you just ask her to turn a certain way, touching tends to give her a panic attack."

"Oh," was all Melissa could think to say.

"Maybe you should start with someone else," said Steve meaningfully.

"Oh, right, of course," said Melissa, her cheeks heating up. "Um, Mr. Thor, why don't we get a few shots of you?"

As Melissa moved away to photograph the god of thunder, Steve turned his attention fully on his small family. Tony had Emmy sitting on his lap, one of her hands gripping his tie in a such a way that it was sure to wrinkle, the other thumb in her mouth, but she wasn't crying and she appeared relatively calm. Peter was shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

"Let's give Emmy another minute," said Steve, smiling down at Peter and holding out his hand. "Why don't you and I play some catch while we wait?"

"Yes!" cheered Peter, running and picking up his ball and glove from the nearby basket before charging a little further out into the field and waiting for Steve to take position before throwing him the ball.

Tony reached blindly over and dragged out the old robot toy, the only physical thing left from Emmy's time in the orphanage. Immediately Emmy reached for it and the screwdriver Tony offered her next and she began to systematically take apart the toy. Tony helped make a few adjustments to the wiring, tightening a few that had come loose in all the play the toy experienced, the two lost in their own little world. It was very similar to the first day they met, Tony explaining what they were doing, Emmy helping take apart and replace the different parts. A week after the kidnapping and Emmy still refused to speak, though she no longer panicked the moment she was out of reach of one of her family members.

By the end of the afternoon, when the sun was starting to set, all of the pictures had been taken, Melissa had long since packed up her equipment and left to edit the photographs, and the Avengers finally started to pack up their picnic supplies to head back into the city for the night.

"Papa," said Peter, looking up at Steve, Clint standing a few feet behind him. "You and Daddy take the small car."

"Don't you want us to ride with you?" asked Steve, pretending to look hurt.

"Nope," said Peter with a grin, popping the p sound at the end of the word. "You and Daddy need to go on a date. You haven't had a date in forever! Uncle Clint said he already made reservations and stuff. So you take the small car and we'll go home in the big one."

"I don't know," said Steve slowly, his brow furrowing as he thought it over. "I think Emmy might not handle that too well."

"I've got the brat," said Bucky simply, plucking Emmy out of Tony's arms. Emmy easily went to Bucky, both hands diving into his long hair to braid. "You two have fun."

"Steve's old rooms are open," said Natasha when she hugged Tony. "We'll be on nightmare watch."

"You sure?" said Tony, pulling back slightly to inspect the spy. She nodded. "Thank you."

Tony and Steve kissed their children and headed towards the smaller of the two vehicles the team had driven. They headed to the city before the rest of the team had finished loading the car, eager for their first night alone in a very long time.

"Do you feel like we're abandoning them?" said Steve, glancing behind them even though he knew he wouldn't be able to see his family anymore.

"A little," sighed Tony. "But I also think Clint was right. We need this. It's been hard, not having any time for just the two of us."

"I know," said Steve. "They'll be fine."

"Now, JARVIS," said Tony as he drove. "Where are we going?"


	11. Insecure Dates

Peter went to bed easily enough, falling asleep to a princess movie he had picked out in the common room with Bruce and Natasha. He adored Natasha and would do just about anything to spend time with her.

Emmy was a different story. She simply refused to go to sleep. Clint and Bucky had tried everything but any time they approached her room, Emmy would start to cry.

"Come on, Em," begged Clint, rocking the toddler soothingly as he paced the hall near the bedrooms. "Please, just try to go to sleep."

Emmy shook her head and cried harder, frustrated with herself for not being able to vocalize what she was so upset about. She wanted to explain that she wanted her Daddy and Papa, not Uncle Clint or Uncle Bucky. She wanted to tell Daddy and Papa that she was sorry, that she would try harder, anything they wanted, but they didn't have to leave. And she knew they would come back – they always came back – but she just couldn't shake the feeling that they left because she quit talking again.

"Come on, baby girl," said Clint. "Daddy and Papa will be back in the morning. Please, just go to bed. The faster you fall asleep, the faster you wake up and morning will get here."

Emmy wanted to tell Uncle Clint that time would not speed up just because she was sleeping but that would mean talking.

"Your turn," said Clint after another hour, handing Emmy off to Bucky and going to sit down in the kitchen with coffee.

Bucky sat down in the hall, leaning against the wall with Emmy on his lap. He didn't try to talk to her, he didn't say anything at all because he recognized the symptoms of separation anxiety for what they were. Quite frankly, he thought it was fitting that the two children had found their way into the family the way they did. He knew that Emmy had wormed her way into Tony's heart by getting him to fix her robot and needing someone to love. Tony had always been a sucker for a sob story – he had taken in the Avengers, after all – and Emmy was her own brand of special that needed the care of people who also had the same problems. Peter landed in their lives not because he was unwanted but because someone cared enough to search for a better life for him. Steve had fallen in love with the kid right away, recognizing the same spirit in Peter that he had, standing up for the little guy and a bit too mouthy at the wrong times. They needed the hero's almost as much as the hero's needed them.

"Uncle Bucky?" whispered Emmy after two hours of sitting quietly.

"Yes?" said Bucky, trying not to glow with pride at the fact that Emmy had spoken to him.

"Daddy and Papa are coming back, right?" said Emmy, blinking up at Bucky with her purple eyes.

"Always," said Bucky. "They could never leave you."

"What if they do?"

"They won't."

"But what if they get stolen or hurt when they're fighting and they can't come back?"

"Then you have an entire family here who will take care of you just like right now."

Emmy nodded, seemingly satisfied with the response.

-Home Base-

"I've missed this," said Steve, laying on his back in bed, Tony curled up against his bare chest. "Just you and me. It's nice."

"It is," agreed Tony. "We should do this more often."

Steve hummed in agreement, kissing the side of Tony's head, messing up the slightly sweaty brown locks even more.

"Do you ever think that maybe Emmy and Peter would be better off without us?" asked Tony quietly. In the dark of Steve's old rooms, with just his husband to hear him, Tony could afford to admit weakness. "Like, maybe we are causing them more problems than if they were adopted by a normal family. I mean, Peter's been kidnapped once, Emmy twice, we can't really say we've done our job protecting them."

"You're worried because Emmy is silent again," said Steve, reading between the lines and cutting to the heart of the matter. "I thought we agreed to try therapy with both of them."

"We did. But Steve, think about how much shit she has been through since she met us."

"And think about how much she went through on a daily basis before she met us," countered Steve. "Baby, I know it's been hard but we give that little girl a stable environment – as stable as we can. Yes, the kidnappings have to stop but every day Emmy wakes up and knows that she is loved and doesn't have to wonder if she will be fed or hit and punished or locked away. She'll start talking again."

"We shouldn't have left her so soon," said Tony, burying his face in the side of Steve's neck to hide from his guilt. "She's going to think we've abandoned her."

"And she'll know that's not true when we come back for her in the morning," said Steve.

Tony sighed, still feeling guilty for leaving his little girl for the night. He knew that the others would care for her, he knew that Bucky and Clint were probably spoiling her rotten with all the attention they would shower her with and Peter was probably soaking up the special time he got with Natasha, time void of little sisters and hovering fathers.

"I'm going to take Peter out for a date tomorrow," declared Tony.

"Oh?"

"Yes. I think we need some bonding time. I know how difficult it can be when one kid needs extra attention like Emmy does. It limits a lot of the stuff we can do as a family. So I want to spend tomorrow and just take the day to do whatever Peter wants, just the two of us."

"I think that's a wonderful idea," said Steve. "That'll leave me free to spend the day with Emmy. I've been wanting to try painting with her anyway."

Tony smiled and kissed his way up Steve's neck until he got to his husbands ear.

"Now how about we take advantage of these last few child free hours?" suggested Tony, causing Steve to laugh and flip them over, pinning Tony to the bed and kissing him fiercely.

 ***Sorry it took so long! I got distracted by other ideas and then got engaged, which I wasn't expecting (but excited about!) so it took a bit longer than expected. Always-Ari**


	12. Outings and Innings

In the end Peter wanted to go to the zoo, so that's what they did. Tony and Peter spent the entire morning roaming the zoo, looking at the animals, Peter excitedly stating facts about each one while Tony listened and asked questions. The elder was impressed with Peter's knowledge on animals; he knew the boy like spiders but he hadn't been aware that he was so enthusiastic about all animals.

"Can we go on a boat ride, Dad?" asked Peter as they exited the zoo around one, bouncing around Tony, tugging on his arm. "Please? That would be so cool! I've never been on a real boat before!"

"Sure thing," said Tony with a laugh. "We can do whatever you want today. Unless it's illegal. Papa said no illegal activities until you were older. He can be such a spoil sport."

"Why do you call him Papa?" asked Peter, falling into step alongside Tony as the billionaire started heading towards the boats. "He's not your Papa."

"But he's your Papa, so that's what I call him around you," said Tony. "It's a silly thing parents do because parents are strange creatures who do their best not to confuse their children."

"Oh," said Peter, who was quiet for a time before speaking again. "Why do you never talk about your father?"

"What do you want to know about him?" asked Tony, trying to sound open.

"What was he like?"

"Howard Stark was a brilliant man who made lots of important inventions," said Tony. "He could build just about anything he set his mind to and he was good looking. His favorite color was blue and he was a pilot."

"Was he as smart as you?"

"Is anyone as smart as me?" teased Tony.

"Emmy will be someday," said Peter. "What were Emmy's first parents like?"

"You'd have to ask Emmy," said Tony. "I don't know a lot about them."

"Her first dad tried to take her away," said Peter softly, getting into the back of the car with Tony before Happy drove them to the boats. "Is he going to do that again?"

Tony looked down at the young boy next to him and thought carefully about his answer. In truth, Tiberius would more than likely try to get Emmy back in some way, shape, or form. The man had shady friends and access to money and seemed intent on pissing Tony and Steve off – the best way to do that would be to mess with their family and Emmy was the easiest target. Tony had never been big on lying to kids and he thought it would be good to be upfront about the situation but at the same time he didn't want Peter to worry.

"I don't know," said Tony slowly. "But I do know that we will never let that happen."

"That's right, because Papa says that you don't like it when people take your things," said Peter with an impish smile. "And that means Emmy. And me."

"Yes it does," said Tony, pulling Peter in to a hug.

-Home Base-

When Steve proposed painting to Emmy, she nodded seriously and helped him lay out paper on the table in his art room. Then he set out the colors and put an old shirt of Tony's on her so she wouldn't get too dirty.

"Have you ever painted before?" asked Steve, sitting next to her on the bench. Emmy was sitting on the table, her injured leg stretched out to the side.

"No," whispered Emmy.

Steve beamed in pride at the fact that she was talking again – only the small, easy words but still it was talking so he would take it.

"That's alright," said Steve. "I was thinking we would just use our fingers and hands today. It's easy. See? You just pick out the color you want, dip your finger in, and then smear it on the paper like this."

Steve modeled what he was expecting, smearing blue paint all over his oversized paper, forming a blue circle.

Tentatively, Emmy dipped her finger in the purple paint and drew a line on her paper. The paint was cold and slimy against her soft skin but she liked the way it glided across the paper, so she tried again with another color. For almost an hour she methodically painted with her fingers. It wasn't quite what Steve was expecting – he knew that children were often messy and enthusiastic while painting – but it also didn't cause Emmy to have a panic attack, so that was a plus. Besides, he had learned that Emmy was very methodical when it came to anything new.

At the end of the hour, Steve helped Emmy clean up, washing their hands together in the sink.

"Hey!" called a familiar voice. "Tony?"

"Tony's out with Peter today," called Steve, helping towel dry Emmy's hands. "They'll be back sometime this evening. I didn't realize you were back."

"Unexpected break," said Rhodey, entering the room. "Nice paintings."

"Uncle Rhodey!" squealed Emmy, instantly throwing out her arms.

"Hey kiddo!" laughed Rhodey, easily taking the squirming red head from Steve and spinning her in a hug. "How have you been?"

"Missed you," said Emmy softly, her small arms firmly around his neck.

"I missed you too," said Rhodey in that soft voice that was usually reserved for Tony. "But hey, I'm here for a few weeks barring any emergencies, so that means we can hang out. Have you been good for your Papa and Daddy?"

Emmy nodded.

"Tell me everything you've been up to," insisted Rhodey, carrying Emmy over to the couch where he sat with her in his lap, leaving Steve to clean up all the supplied.

Emmy launched into everything she had done with a mixture of words and sign language, leaving nothing out. Steve watched as he tidied up, amazed at how open and expressive Emmy could be when she felt safe. It was a testament to her personality that even Steve couldn't tell who her favorite uncle was; she loved each one differently and it showed. Steve wasn't even sure how Rhodey, who she had seen infrequently at best, had made the list of people she opened up to but he did and the best Steve could do was write it up as the same reason why Tony adored the man.

Several hours later, Peter and Tony made it home to find Rhodey and Emmy on their stomachs on the ground doing a puzzle while Steve read in an armchair.

"Papa!" yelled Peter, rushing through the door and jumping on Steve. "I went on a boat!"

"You did?" said Steve, chuckling at the energetic boy. "And how was that?"

"It was awesome!" said Peter. "And we went to the zoo and we had dinner at this really fancy place and Dad let me order a lobster and I got to use tools to eat it and on the boat there was this glass part in the bottom where you could see the water!"

"Sounds like you both had a very busy day!" said Steve.

"You have no idea," sighed Tony, exhaustion clear in his entire being. "Where's my little girl?"

"On the carpet," said Steve, nodding down at Emmy.

"Rhodey!" yelled Tony, quickly tackling his best friend when he spotted him on the ground. "You're came back!"

"I always come back you clingy idiot," said Rhodey, his voice lacking any real heat. "Now budge up, Emmy's helping me with a puzzle."

Tony grumbled but eventually settled for going to say hello to Steve properly. Peter continued recounting his exciting adventure for Steve and Emmy ignored Tony completely, opting to focus on the puzzle.

"Hey Ducky," said Tony, getting on his stomach next to his daughter. "How was your day with Papa?"

Emmy ignored him, picking up another bit of puzzle and putting it in it's place in a row.

"Ducky?" said Tony, surprised.

Again, Emmy didn't even glance at Tony.

"Steve?" said Tony, looking up at his husband for answers.

"Don't look at me," said Steve defensively. "We painted and then Rhodey came over and she's been hanging out with him."

"Emmy?" said Rhodey.

Instantly Emmy looked up at Rhodey as if the man held all the answers.

"Wanna tell me why you're ignoring Daddy?" asked Rhodey.

Emmy frowned and looked back down at the puzzle.

"Come on, Em," said Tony. "I can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong. What did I do that got you all upset?"

Emmy didn't respond but she wanted to. She wanted to tell him that she didn't like that he spent the entire night away from her and then all day too. She wanted to tell him that she was sorry for whatever she had done to make him not want to spend time with her anymore. But she also knew that she was being selfish, wanting all of his attention. She knew Peter needed Daddy just as much as she did and she shouldn't make them feel bad for leaving her behind. She had gotten to spend time with Papa and Uncle Rhodey, she should be happy. But she wasn't because she missed Daddy and he hadn't missed her.

"Was it a rough night?" asked Tony softly.

"I don't know," said Steve. "Bucky said it took Emmy a long time to fall asleep, but you knew that because she was still sleeping this morning when we got back."

"Shit!" cursed Tony, realizing what was wrong and turning back to his daughter. "Emmy? Honey, I'm sorry."

Emmy chanced a peek up at Tony through her long hair.

"You were sleeping when Papa and I got back and Uncle Bucky said you had just fallen asleep," said Tony. "I didn't want to wake you up since you were tired. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you and tell you where I was going before I took Peter out. That must have been pretty hard, waking up and having Papa here but not knowing where I was, huh?"

Emmy nodded and sat up, finally turning her attention away from the puzzle because that was exactly it. Tony had never left without talking to her first.

"I'm so sorry, Ducky," said Tony, scooping Emmy up and hugging her close.

"Missed you, Daddy," whispered Emmy.

"Oh sweetheart, I missed you too. I promise next time I'll wake you up before I leave."

Emmy nodded.

"She has you wrapped around her little finger," teased Rhodey.

Tony stuck his middle finger out at his best friend but knew it was true.


	13. Good Brother

It was a Tuesday and Peter and Emmy were at school. Peter was called out of the classroom and down to the office right after lunch. It meant he would be missing part of reading time, which he was not pleased about, but it also meant he was not in class, which was against the rules and he was all for that. When he arrived at the office, the secretary directed him into the small group meeting room.

"Peter," said the school therapist. "I'm so glad you could meet with me today. I want to talk to you."

"Am I in trouble?" asked Peter, eying the woman suspiciously.

"Not at all," laughed the woman. "I'm Miss Le, the school therapist. I was asked to meet with you and talk about how your life is going so far. I understand you just got adopted."

"Yes," said Peter with a smile, sitting down on the couch opposite the woman. "Dad and Papa are great. I even have a little sister now. Her name is Emmy and she doesn't like strangers."

"And how do you like having a little sister?" asked Miss Le.

"She's awesome! But she gets scared a lot. Papa said it's because she didn't have a nice family like me before she came to live with them. But it's okay now because she lives with us and she doesn't have to be scared all the time."

"And how do you like your new fathers?"

"They're great! I love them. Dad invents all sorts of cool things and we went on a boat last week! Papa tells the best stories and he can do push ups while I'm sitting on his back."

"Sounds like fun."

"It is!"

The session passed quickly. By the end, Miss Le couldn't see what the principal was so worried about, Peter was well adjusted and seemed to have a stable home life to continue that support.

"Peter, I'm going to meet with Emmy now," said Miss Le as the hour ended. "Thank you so much for talking to me today."

"You're welcome," said Peter with a bright smile, hopping up. "Um, but you're not allowed to talk to Emmy alone."

"Why not?" asked Miss Le, her smile turning strained, like it physically pained her to have him tell her what to do.

"Emmy doesn't talk to girls," said Peter as if it were the most obvious thing. "It's a rule."

Peter opened the door and found Emmy sitting on the hard wooden bench outside.

"Hi Emmy!" said Peter. "Come meet my new friend Miss Le."

Emmy looked at Miss Le and paled even more. She slowly limped into the room.

"Peter, go back to class," said Miss Le. "Emmy and I will be fine."

"No thank you," said Peter, lifting Emmy onto the couch before sitting next to her. "I'm just going to wait for Emmy. I told you, Emmy doesn't talk to girls. Unless they are Aunt Natasha. Is Aunt Natasha coming here?"

"I promise, it will be fine," said Miss Le.

"Does my Papa know about this?" asked Peter while Emmy curled into his side.

"Peter, I don't want to have to call the principal but I will if you don't leave. I don't think you want to get suspended again."

"Let me just call Uncle Phil," said Peter, pulling out his emergency cell phone, all his warning bells going off. "He's in charge since Dad and Papa are out of town."

"Hang up the phone," growled Miss Le.

"Uncle Phil?" said Peter, ignoring the woman who was quickly working herself into a rage. "Yeah, um, the school therapist wants to meet with Emmy but she's a girl and I don't think Papa said yes but she wants me to leave her alone with Emmy and I don't know what to do and she says she's going to call the principal and I'm going to get suspended again."

There was a pause and then Peter nodded.

"Yes sir," said Peter. "Okay, bye!"

Peter hung up the phone and climbed of the couch, pulling Emmy down with him.

"Where do you think you're going?" demanded Miss Le.

"Uncle Phil says to go back to class, so I'm taking Emmy back to kindergarten and then I'm going back to fourth grade."

"I don't think so," said Miss Le, getting up to stop them.

"I do," said Peter, marching through the door. "Uncle Phil said to and he's the boss, not you. You don't even know the rules for Emmy."

Peter made it to the front office with Miss Le following before Phil Coulson arrived at school. The agent took one look at the therapist before his face darkened.

"Peter, I want you and Emmy to go with Uncle Clint," said Phil, not taking his eyes off the woman. "He's right outside the door. I already checked you both out of school."

Peter nodded and continued out the door to find Clint standing there, looking through the window with a glare.

"Emmy?" said Clint softly.

Emmy tugged on Peter's arm until the fourth grader picked her up.

"What's going on, Uncle Clint?" asked Peter.

"I'll explain when we get home," said Clint. "I'm proud of you, Peter. You did exactly what you were supposed to do, calling Uncle Phil. You're a smart kid."

"Miss Le wanted to be alone with Emmy," said Peter, as if he couldn't understand how anyone could be as stupid as that. "And she wouldn't tell me if Papa knew."

"And you were very smart to call Uncle Phil. You're a good big brother."

"Why is she here?" whispered Emmy when Clint plucked her out of Peter's arms when Peter looked tired. "You guys promised….daddy promised…."


End file.
